


Ink

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25794316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Consider this like a future snapshot in the Get Down timeline, all the way up into current times. The reader has kept up the poly monogamous relationship with the band, as well as working as part of the road crew in addition to various freelance work in the downtime between tours. In this particular captured moment, it’s Roger to the rescue to give the reader a few moments of relaxation.Also, written a bit because I’m in love with his tattoos, and would die to have a chance to talk ink and the stories behind them with him.
Relationships: Roger Taylor/Reader
Kudos: 5





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note that I rated it Mature only because You Send Me and Get Down are all Mature/Explicit fics, so while this one is rather tame, if you go reading those for background since they have the same reader character in it, you'll run into more explicit scenes!

The agreement was fairly simple; Roger split his time as he wanted and as he was able between yourself and Sarina, more often with Sarina. It worked out well though, since you spent a great deal of your time on various tasks for your own career, writing for yourself and others and for the various freelance assignments you took on whenever Queen didn’t need you for tours. 

But on occasion, nights like tonight were good. 

Sarina had texted you to let you know he was on the way, but it was still faster than you expected that your doorbell rang. 

“You need a break,” he said as he walked inside, and took stock of your less-than-clean flat. “Have you done anything aside from work in the last few days?” 

You tried to casually tuck away the pile of first, second, third, and onwards handwritten drafts that were stacked messily on the floor near the couch. “Of course I have!” 

He gestured to the basket of clean laundry in the hall. “You do know laundry doesn’t count, right? That’s just different work.” 

“It’s necessary work, like the writing,” you protested weakly. 

“Right,” he said. “But have you sat down and done...nothing? Watched a show, taken a breath, relaxed?” 

You shrugged. “How important is that answer, really? How about I get us something to drink, and you sit down?” 

“With that, you made it even more important,” Roger replied. “What about food?” 

“No,” you muttered weakly, but he was already at the fridge. “In my defense, I have a lot of rice, and it has to be eaten up eventually...” 

“Dinner, a movie, and relaxing,” he said, shutting the fridge door, shaking his head at the lack of contents in it. “Those are your only goals for tonight, alright? No arguing with me.”

“I don’t argue,” you said. 

He smirked. “Really?” 

You opened your mouth, then paused. Any rebuttal was just that-arguing. And you truly didn’t want to argue with him. It wasn’t that relaxing sounded bad, but all the same, you had work to do, and the flat could seemingly never be clean enough-

His hands slipped to your waist and interrupted your train of thought. “You aren’t saying anything, but you’re doing it now, that thing. Where you want to argue, but you don’t, and there’s one hundred other ‘buts’ in your head, running at a million miles a minute. Let yourself stop for the night, take things one minute at a time.” 

You nodded, but he laughed. “Your laptop is still on, isn’t it?” 

“In my room. I’ve got I don’t know how many things open right now, for work, and then just for myself, and a coworker needed help on something and I couldn’t say no, you know how it is-” 

“Go turn it off,” he interrupted, and gave you the gentlest push towards your bedroom. “Go on. Then you come back out here, and we’re figuring out dinner. Actual dinner, real food, not rice and whatever sauce you’ve had in the cupboard for the last year.” 

“It was only six months old!” you shouted down the hall. “And I froze the left overs, so it lasts that long!” 

“You’re lucky you aren’t sick!” came his reply, and you knew he was at least slightly right. In theory, most things kept decently when frozen, but leftover sauces like alfredo maybe weren’t meant to be in that category. Or used with rice, for that matter. 

You saved your various drafts as quickly as you could, your laptop fans whining and hot to the touch, and attempted to spruce up your bedroom before heading back out to him. 

He had laid himself on your couch, the stack of drafts retrieved from where you had shoved them almost underneath it, a few pages of them in his hands. “These are good. Just because, or for something else?” 

“Someone else,” you said. “A commission that I’m behind on, actually. It needs work.” 

“I think maybe you need to take your eyes off of it for a few days,” he said. “Because to me, who has literally never seen it before, it’s good. And you know I don’t toss that out for everything.” 

You shrugged. “It’s getting there.” 

He sighed. “Come lay down. Come on, look at you. Tense as can be, tired. The world won’t end if you lay with me for the next ten minutes.” 

You settled down beside him on the couch, and tried to relax, to stop the constant running tally of things you needed to start, needed to finish, needed to fix so that they could be considered finished. 

“I can feel your heart speeding when you’re overthinking things,” he whispered. “Just a few seconds, for me. Think of nothing.” 

“I don’t think I can do that,” you admitted. 

“Then think of something other than work,” he said. “What about the last time all of us went to Japan, hm?” 

“That was nice,” you hummed. “Busy, but what tour isn’t?” 

He nodded. “In particular, I’m thinking of the afternoon you fell asleep in the garden of that house we rented. Do you remember that?” 

“Vaguely,” you smiled. “I was so out of it the rest of that night though. But it was a really good nap. Not too warm or too cold, and the rain...” 

“I won a decent amount off of Adam with that,” he chuckled. “He was so sure the rain would be the thing to wake you up. I told him that was a bad bet to make; he was so confident though...ah well. He’s learned now, hasn’t he?” 

“That I can sleep anywhere if I’m tired enough?” you asked, fighting to keep your eyes open. 

“Yeah,” Roger smiled as your fingers traced the lines of the tattoo on his arm. “Speaking of...what’s a round estimate of the hours you’ve slept in the last week? Fully slept, I mean, not interrupted by work or anything else.” 

You held up a hand.

“Five?” 

“Give or take a few,” you mumbled. 

“Jesus,” he sighed. “You know, you can sleep now. Dinner can wait.” 

“But you’re probably hungry, and if you give me a minute-” 

He shushed you, and his other hand dropped over your eyes. “Rest, old man.” 

“I’m not old,” you protested. “I’m younger than you by a bit, and you aren’t old.” 

“I’m not old?” he laughed. “I’m certainly not young.” 

“You’re always young to me,” you murmured. “All of you. Freddie and Jim too, if they were still here. Young and ready to get into trouble. Just because your hair has gone white or gray, doesn’t matter. All I see are those young men, somehow made of boundless energy and talent and intelligence, who I could keep up with on a good day if I made an effort.” 

“That makes you young then too,” Roger said decisively after a moment. “Family might argue with us some on this-” 

“Young people that haven’t gotten old enough to understand this yet,” you interrupted. “They’ll learn.” 

“You say that,” Roger said, and you felt him slip his arm from under your neck as he got off the couch. “And yet you still don’t eat enough, or sleep enough, or take enough breaks.” 

“I’ll learn eventually too,” you muttered, eyes still shut, aching back curled against the couch to fill the open space he left. “Are you coming back? I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t come back.” 

“I think you’ll be able to,” Roger said. “But yes, I will.” 

\---

He didn’t keep his promise, but the scent of warm food made you forgive him. 

“I thought this might be a decent alarm clock,” he said, helping you up off the couch despite your protests. “Pizza, because then I know you’ll have leftovers to eat for the next few days.” 

“If you send Sarina over here with food-” 

“I don’t send her, she sends herself,” he said. “You know that. Like it or not, everyone keeps their eye on you when they can. Hell, if I sent a group message out to everyone now, you’d probably end up with food for weeks.” 

“Oh lord, please don’t,” you said. “It would be very sweet, don’t get me wrong-” 

“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “But then they’d worry over you and you don’t like it when people worry over you. I won’t, but you might get another pizza sent to you randomly next week.” 

“Randomly? And anonymously too, I’m sure?” 

“Well I don’t know if Brian would tell you or not that he was doing it, but he might, if only to tell you that I told him to send you one,” Roger grinned. 

You shook your head. “You’re all ridiculous, you know that?” 

“Ridiculous out of care for you,” he replied. “And there’s nothing you can do about it!” 

The to do list that had been wracking your brain slowly melted away as you ate, and if he had asked, you would have had to admit that you did need this. To have someone dear to you there, with good food and time to rest. 

After, when the food had been put away and a random show turned on your TV for background noise, you lay again with him. 

This time, in your room on your bed, your head on his shoulder, one hand tracing the lines of his tattoos again. 

“Never told you much about these, have I?” Roger mused. 

“No. But I’ve never sat down and told you all about any of mine,” you replied. “I mean, I told you all when I was getting them or what it might look like. But I don’t think we’ve ever had any sort of intensive meeting about the stories behind them, or any of yours.” 

“We ought to,” he said. “I know I’m not normally one for it.” 

“I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you wish for something like that.” 

“But...I don’t know. Would be nice. I mean, some of those you got before you met up with us, so we really have no idea the story behind them. Though I’m starting to think you just like toying with mine!” 

“I can stop,” you said, your finger stilled where it was on his hand. 

He shook his head. “I like it. But I’ve never seen you do that with anyone else, not any of the boys you met up with after you and Freddie cooled down that had tattoos.” 

“None of those boys were all that good,” you tutted as you resumed your tracing. “Or worthy of something that intimate. Freddie always told me I had a habit of getting carried away with the first cute thing I saw, then being frustrated when they weren’t interested in anything more stable. He was right, and he knew it, but I should have told him so more.” 

“He knew, even if you didn’t say it,” Roger said. “Or you wouldn’t have been in his circle of friends, or kept on as road crew. You know that just as well as I do. He didn’t suffer a fool, and he knew you were up to the work of being his friend, and friends with all of us.” 

“Do you think he’d have any?” you wondered. “By now? Maybe of the cats, if anything...” 

“I don’t know for sure,” Roger said. “He didn’t much like things like that, doctors and dentists and all of that, unless it was necessary for his health. But then again, you don’t much like those things either, and you’ve got some. Maybe you would have convinced him, or I could have gotten him to my artist.” 

“Just a bunch of old ladies, covered in ink,” you sighed. 

“Excepting Brian and Deaky,” Roger said. “Now that would be the real test for you. Could you convince them to get something done?” 

“Make it a band and crew bonding thing,” you replied. “We could all get one, something to symbolize touring so long. So many years, so much hard work. I don’t know exactly what, but I figure if we could make Freddie feel comfortable with it, he could help us convince the others. Adam as well; I think he could easily talk us all into something like that.” 

“Maybe we’ll have to do that anyway,” Roger said. “We have time to think on it, at least. Figure out a design, offer it up to anyone on the crew who wants to get it with us.” 

“Brian might just agree to it then,” you said. “But Deaky? I wouldn’t want to bother him, but I’d feel bad not offering it to him as well.” 

“He’s never gotten mad at us for messaging him about sillier, lighter things,” Roger said. “At worst, he would ignore it and not answer, and that would be answer enough. Who knows? He might surprise and reply back with a picture of the design done. After all, what have we all got to lose at this point?” 

You let his arm wrap around you and pull you close, and tried not to think about that, about the fears that occasionally raced through your mind as to what exactly you had to lose, what they all did, what everyone did, with the state of the world. 

“Nothing except some blank canvas,” you replied. “And I don’t know about you, but I think I’d like to die absolutely covered. Not a square bit of free skin.” 

“You’ll have to learn to take breaks then, so we can keep you going long enough for that,” Roger said. “Now, I’m simply too tired to go back home, and I daresay I might be too tired for the next few days...” 

“Sarina told me you were spending the next week with me, to keep an eye on me and make sure I eat and sleep or whatever,” you smiled. “You can be tired with me.” 

“And you’ll actually rest, and relax?” 

“For you? I could manage it,” you replied. “Thank you, Roger. For everything.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that,” he smiled. “It’ll be thanks enough to hear you snoring.” 

“I do not snore!” 

“Arguing that since 1978,” Roger tutted. “There’s no shame in it, it’s very cute.” 

You groaned and pressed your face into his chest. “I’m snoring extra loud, just for that.” 

“And you’ll make me all the happier,” Roger laughed. 

You couldn’t be sure if you actually did snore or not, but you were confident it was the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. 

The food helped, and the break, but more than anything, you knew it was Roger’s presence that let you finally rest. 

And that was why your next tattoo would be something for him, and you were going to be sure to let him know. 


End file.
